


Belief

by dumbledorable



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Teen Wolf (TV), The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Percy Jackson Fusion, BAMF! Stiles, Crossover, Demigods, F/M, Gen, M/M, PJO, Stiles is a Spark, Stiles is a demigod, sort of, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 03:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5075617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumbledorable/pseuds/dumbledorable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a demigod.<br/>This is the first chapter so far, I'm mostly just beta-ing it right now to see what kind of response I get. If you want more, please comment/kudos and I'll write more! I'd love constructive criticism about writing, ect. It's been a long time since I've dusted off this old keyboard...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lesson 1 of...

Even as a human member of a werewolf pack, Stiles was still required to train. And by training, Derek meant workouts, while all the wolves got to run around and frolic in the forest. At least he didn't have to interact with anybody while he was all sweaty.

After his last rep of upper-body workouts, Stiles decided to call it quits for the evening. It was a 11:00 on a Tuesday night, and he had a math test tomorrow. He downed his water bottle, grabbed his keys, and left the newly renovated Hale house, trusting Derek to understand that he went home willingly, and that he wasn't kidnapped by some new force. Just to be on the safe side, he texted Derek telling him that he went home. After shoving his phone in his pocket, he climbed in his Jeep and lumbered on back to his house, where his dad was hopefully asleep. A ding notified Stiles of Derek's reply, but he ignored it, preferring to just fall straight into bed, and hopefully, a good night's sleep.

_Stiles was in a cave. He couldn't see except for the green light coming farther back in the tunnels, but Stiles was drawn to it. He crept forward silently, listening hard for any signs of life, but he was only greeting with the drip-drop of water along the cave walls and stalagmites. Stiles could hear a whisper echo off the walls, hissing, "Alabaster was a fool. How dare he try to outsmart me, Queen of Libya and daughter of Hecate. This one shall pay for the mistakes of his brothers, his mother, his cousins. His entire family must be destroyed, his line decimated." The strange hissing noise stopped, and new voice replaced it. Mist began to seep into the tunnel the way Stiles was headed, forcing him back the way he had came. It smelled like clean air and electricity, making Stiles' senses wake. "Ignorance is your safety, young Genim. Leave this place." The voice echoed around his subconsciousness, sounding just like his mother. The mist surrounded Stiles as he tried to look for her, but he tripped on the uneven ground of wherever he was._

Stiles woke up minutes before his alarm was set to wake him, jolted to consciousness. The fading memories of his dream caused him to mutter, "What the..," under his breath. He has had a few dreams about his mother here and there, but usually they're of his mother playing Risk with him and always beating him with dice rolls, until he finally beat her, or when she took him hiking and showed him a nest of snake eggs, and how mist from the waterfalls made her smile so hard he swore her green eyes turned to emeralds.

Out of everything he hated about his appearance, his eyes were one of them. A dull shade of grey-brown, nothing like his mother's gorgeous shade of green. After studying Biology in school he understood that the grey-brown gene was more likely than his mother's green, but he still cursed nature. There had still been a chance. He just wasn't it. At least he had her chestnut hair, rather than his father's sandy colored buzz.

The dream had set Stiles on edge. He didn't have a problem with snakes, he had had a few as pets as a kid, but the cave, and the voice... they sent chills up his spine. By now, Stiles only truly recognized that his mother had told him something, and he had been in a creepy cave with some creepy lady. His dream had faded, and the zinginess of the mist made him feel like he was forgetting something.

Lost in his reverie, Stiles jolted when his alarm blared. "I'm up, I'm up, jeez. Why can't birds wake me up like Cinderella?" He reached for his phone to turn the alarms, all ten of them, off. Remembering that even when birds woke him up from outside his window left him cursing, he decided alarms would have to do.

Struggling around in the dark, he picked a pair of jeans from the floor and found a t-shirt from one of his drawers. He stumbled into the bathroom and stared at his reflection in the dim light. The bags under his eyes looked more and more prominent each day. He shrugged at himself. At least he had control over his body.

He called out a half-hearted "See ya!" to his dad, hoping his dad, at least, got some sleep. He stuck his key in the ignition of his jeep, and sent a quick prayer to whatever godly being ruled over him. Please let her start, please let her start.... His heart felt so hopeful, yet he didn't want to be let down when she didn't. He sighed, gathering himself, and turned the key. She grumbled, but the engine turned over. He smiled and thanked whoever had answered him, nodding to himself, and pulled out of the drive way.

 

As he pulled in, he saw Scott park his dirt bike, and walk over to where Kira was waiting by the door. Stiles quickly parked his own car and locked it, running inside after his friend. He followed the stream of teenagers to where he knew Scott would be, getting books from his locker. "Scotty!" He called out.

"Hey, Stiles! We missed you after training." He answered, as Stiles came to lean against the lockers.

"Yeah, well, I had a date with Hypnos." He babbled, not really paying attention.

"Huh?" Scott asked, looking at him funny. "Huh? Oh, what did I say? Oh, Hypnos, right. Greek God of Sleep." Stiles jumbled his words, trusting his best friend to make sense of them.

Scott nodded in understanding, bless him.

"Coming over to Derek's after school?" Scott asked.

Without asking what for, Stiles knew it was just to hang out. Just pack-bonding. Just fulfilling the need to always be there, around each other. "Sure, maybe, I have to do some stuff after school first."

Scott replied, "Awesome!," before wandering off to find Kira. Stiles shook his head after his friend, glad he didn't ask what he had to do after school, before dashing off to his homeroom to finish last-minute homework.

After making it through the day without falling asleep in any of his classes for once, Stiles bolted out to the parking lot to beat the rush of students leaving the parking lot. He sped to Deaton's, thankful that he knew where all the speed traps were thanks to his dad.

He pulled into the vet's lot, parked and got out, passing an old lady with a chihuahua on the way in. Stiles walked into the waiting area and was glad to see that it was empty; the chihuahua lady must've been his last patron of the day so he could devote his afternoon to Stiles.

"Yo, Doc," Stiles greeted Deaton as he came out from the backroom. He motioned for Stiles to follow him back the way he came, and told him to take a seat.

"Hello, Stiles. I must say you seem eager to get started," Deaton greeted him.

Stiles shrugged, not really knowing what to say besides "Yup, let's do this thang," he joked.

Deaton fixed a serious gaze on Stiles. "You must realize this is a grave business. Your spark is untamed at the moment. If we don't advance through these lessons successfully, you could hurt yourself and others." Stiles nodded, a little annoyed that Deaton was taking the fun out of this magic stuff.

"Yeah, I get it," He said, trying not to sound too irritated.

Deaton leaned backward, and opened a drawer under the counter they were sitting at in the middle of the room. He came up with a needle, and set it on the center of the table

"Okay, Stiles. I want you to levitate this needle in the air. Not too high, just hovering, if you're able."

Stiles nodded, accepting this challenge. This was very different from his other Spark tasks, but he understood it was the same principle: belief.

Stiles concentrated on the needle, believing that he could make it hover. He directed his will towards the needle, pushing it to lift itself. He didn't so much as force it to lift, but suggested it lifted. He felt a muscle in his chest tighten, and moved the needle with his belief. It didn't just hover, however, oh no. It zoomed upwards, quickly bounced off the ceiling and fell right into Stiles' outstretched palm.

Deaton looked at him, seemingly surprised, which made Stiles' grin grow wider. It wasn't easy to surprise Deaton.

"Try again," he plucked the needle from Stiles' hand and placed it back onto the center of the table, "with more control, if you can," Stiles could hear, rather than see, the amused grin on Deaton's face.

Stiles nodded, and focused on the needle once more. He squinted his eyes and strained his vision he was concentrating so hard. He nudged it upwards, a request this time, to the needle. Lift.

The needle rose, hovering eye-level. Stiles forced him to concentrate on where and how high and how much space this tiny needle was taking up in the air, forcing the air currents to mold around the needle and make room.

Stiles allowed the needle to settle back down on the table, and allowed himself to breathe, gasping in air.

"Great job, Stiles. You grasped the concept exceedingly well. Can I ask what your process was?" Deaton wondered, face pensive.

"I just sort of... wanted it to happen, I guess."

"I see. So our lessons on belief proved to be beneficial?" Commenting on the previous lessons Stiles found such complaint with.

He nodded grudgingly.

"Alright. On to the next. I hadn't planned for us to move on so quickly, but to make better use of our time, I'll allow us to continue." Deaton took the needle and placed it back in the drawer, and came up again with three short candles.

He placed them on the table about eight inches apart, at the tips of an imaginary triangle. "Alright, Stiles. I understand if this particular task is too difficult for someone of your skill level,"

'Ouch,' Stiles thought. He tried not to be too offended, he understood this was only his second lesson of all this Spark-business.

"What do you want me to do? Light them?"

Deaton nodded, and sat back on his stool, a picture of serenity. "Precisely."

Stiles thought about what he wanted to do, then realized that overthinking it wasn't going to help. This spark stuff was like leaning to walk, he thought. It was simple, as long as he didn't think about it, and just did it.

He took a deep breath in, and a deep breath out, steadying himself. Alright, Genim. He imagined his mother encouraging him. She would have thought this was so cool.

He willed the candles to light. He thought about it on a micro-level, the sparks igniting from friction, the oxygen feeding the flame. He wanted this. He nudged his mind again in the direction of heat, and felt his stomach drop.

The three candles lit simultaneously.

Deaton didn't so much as flinch, but his eyes widened a minuscule degree. Stiles fixed his hopeful gaze onto his mentor's shocked face. "Well?" He prompted.

After Deaton's silence, Stiles' grin slowly started to melt, thinking he failed. "I did it, didn't I? What's the issue?" His voice was rough, and he coughed, feeling his abdomen tighten at the movement. He felt like he had pulled something.

"It seems I misjudged your skill level, Stiles. My mistake. You did well this afternoon. Next lesson we will work on something more attuned to your abilities." Deaton's voice sounded off, somehow. Guarded.

Stiles recognized the dismissal, but fought it. "What's the issue?" he repeated.

"Stiles, nothing is wrong. You did what I asked. That's it for today." The man sounded exasperated.

"No," Stiles shook his head. "Something's wrong, Deaton. Tell me what it is."

Deaton got up from the stool, blew out the candles, and opened the door to the main office. "Stiles. Conjuring flame is a difficult task, one I didn't believe you would actually be able to complete. At least not today, but hopefully in the future. Your success with the needle and the flames is telling of a ... of a power I didn't believe you possessed. It seems I misjudged your abilities," Deaton said again.

Stiles didn't move from his spot, despite Deaton's position at the door telling him to leave. He fixed a disbelieving look on his mentor.

"I wasn't able to light a candle without feeling heavy fatigue, and almost wearing my body out. I slept for three days after my first flame. You just lit three candles at the same time, something most Sparks aren't capable of until months after their training begins. Obviously, this means we must work harder to tame your Spark. That kind of power untrained can do serious damage."

Stiles' body tensed. He didn't know if he wanted the ability to do damage just by thinking. He had done enough damage last year, and look where he was now. Back at it again, but in the driver's seat of his mind this time. He wanted to reject this new part of him, but didn't think he would be able to. He thought it was insanely cool, mesmerizing. Sure, he felt tired, but he felt alive.

"Oh," Stiles muttered. "I'll try to be careful," Deaton pursed his lips, as if knowing Stiles could try, but he would always find trouble. "We should meet everyday for lessons, Stiles, if you understand the situation."

"I do." Stiles snapped. He scooted the stool away from him and walked out of the room, past the backroom, and out the door. He didn't even care that he hadn't thanked him for the lesson and his time, not caring about politeness. He just lit three candles on fire at the same time, which is really cool on his own, but with Deaton's warning, should be even cooler, and Deaton makes him stress out about it. It's fine. It really is. 'Its fine,' Stiles tells himself. And he believes it.

Stiles shakes himself off, and decided that pack would cheer him up. He hadn't really told them all about all this Spark stuff, because he thought it would eventually lead to him becoming somebody's emissary, and he did not want to decide between Derek or Scott. He would not go there.

So he turned up his radio, rolled down the windows, and cruised to the Hale House, hoping his mood would shift by the time he got there.

As he pulled in, he noticed Derek's Camaro, Scott's bike, Jackson's Porsche, and Kira's ride. He knew Issac would be here, as he had moved in with Derek last year.

He didn't bother knocking, just swung open to door and came face to face with a shirtless Derek.

"Umm," Suddenly Stiles didn't have a witty response.

"I'm on my way out for a run. How was school?" Derek stopped to chat. Stiles was so proud of him for actually putting in effort with his pack, acting like a good alpha Stiles knew he could be. "It was alright. Have a good run!" Stiles called out to Derek as he ran out to the Preserve.

"Yo!" Stiles called out to the rest of the house. Voices answered from the back, where Stiles knew where the living room was. "What's up guys?" He called, walking back to the kitchen so he could do homework on the table. He passed Kira, Scott, Lydia, Issac, Jackson, Erica, and Boyd, and Allison watching a movie on the stylish and plush couches that Lydia had helped Derek choose. "Watching When in Rome," Lydia answered. "I'm gonna do some homework, in that case," He chuckled, skipping on the rom-com.

Stiles sat and completed his homework until his he couldn't focus anymore, and decided that he could reward himself and join the pack. They had moved onto TV now, watching a How to Get Away With Murder marathon and playing on their phones.

As Stiles settled himself on the remaining love seat, reading for a nap, Derek returned from his run, checking in on them silently. Stiles sensed his eyes on him and jolted out of his sleepy daze, and caught sight of Derek's sweaty chest. He rolled his eyes at himself, telling himself to get a grip.

"Derek. Thank God. They wanted to watch Keeping Up With the Kardashians." Isaac complained.

"Oh, hush, Isaac. You know you're just dying to see which watch Kendall wears to the party," Jackson faked.

Derek rolled his eyes. "Pack meeting. Five minutes." Derek left the doorway to go upstairs to his room and change, maybe taking a quick shower.... Stiles tried not to let himself fantasize in a room full of scent-sensitive werewolves. Isaac gave him a knowing look anyway. He scrunched his nose in response, like so what? The mood in the room dampened, as everyone understood that playtime was over and now it was time for business. Allison got up and turned off the TV. "Alright guys. You heard him." Scott's brow scrunched for whatever reason at Allison, as he took Kira's hand to lead them to the kitchen table. Everyone was able to find a seat, leaving the two ends to Derek and Scott, respectively. Operating as one pack with two alphas wasn't easy, but there were ways to make it better through compromises.

The werewolves sat up straight as they heard Derek going down the stairs, so the humans could tell Derek was coming. He pulled out the chair at the head of the table, and sat down with a sigh. "What's good in the hood?" Stiles asked from his place at the table, next to Kira at Scott's end, and Isaac, who was sitting next to Erica at Derek's end.

Sighs around the table sounded, and Derek rolled his eyes. "Touching base with everyone. Yesterday throughout the preserve, Scott; you probably noticed this too, there was a strange scent in the forest, just lingering, like a group moving fast. Not human, but definitely something."

"Can you tell us anymore than that?" Lydia asked, sounding bored.

"These people weren't human. Not werewolves, but something different. Magic."

The Pack shifted in the seats, taking the new threat seriously. "Well, what are we going to do?" Stiles asked. "What's our plan of action?"

"We don't need to rush into anything. Could be nothing." Scott said.

Derek shook his head. "No, Scott. I've never experienced something like this, like being watched. It's like... hunters, but heightened. I don't know. We'll investigate, of course."

Boyd rolled his shoulders, as if knowing this would turn messy.

Stiles leaned back on his chair so it was balanced on two legs. "Well, seems to me like you pups are gonna go run around with your noses to the ground for a while. Until you find anything, keep us humans updated. If we take this seriously, and I guess we will.. no going around alone, for the humans, right?" He grudgingly looked at his alphas. Scott shrugged and Derek nodded grimly. Stiles sighed, feeling extremely put-upon. "Oh, alright." He glanced at his watch, seeing it was 8:00 already.

"Well, if that's that, I'm outtie. Got a-"

"-date with Hypnos?" Scott finished.

"Whose Hypnos?" Derek scowled. Lydia laughed, "Oh, he's a God," She teased him.

Derek's glare deepened. "Who?" He directed it towards Stiles this time. "The God of Sleep, man." He flashed a finger-gun in his direction. "Anyways, anybody need a ride?" Allison raised her hand. "Actually, if you'd be cool with it."

"Sure thing, Allison. You ready?" She nodded, grabbed her phone, and said good-bye to Derek and Scott, then the rest of the pack.

They walked out to his Jeep together, and Stiles drove through the forest to get back to the livable areas of Beacon Hills.

Stiles yawned, feeling his jaw crack. Allison glanced at him. Stiles muttered something, but Allison didn't hear, preferring to smile and nod anyways.

He saw something white dart near the road. "Shit!" He severed to the other side, glad no other cars were coming. Allison gasped. "What the fuck was that?" He wondered. He tried glancing in his rear-view mirror but knew it would be too dark to see anything.

Stiles pulled into Allison's neighborhood and dropped her off. "Be careful, Stiles." She warned him.

"I will. No worries. See you tomorrow!" He called out the window before speeding off to his own house.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loved the feedback I got from you guys! So encouraging :)))  
> : Thalia gets involved....

After a restless night spent lying staring at the ceiling, Stiles had to get up and go to school the next day. Of course, the day was spent thinking about what he would be doing at Deaton's that afternoon, or how Derek looked after his run last night, or what new baddie could be lurking in the preserve. Harris sneered at him extra hard today when he caught Stiles not paying attention- he made his gut get all tense and his fingers tingle. Harris could go right on and shove--

His thought process was caught up when Lydia sat next to him. "Stiles," she greeted him, as she does. Stiles popped a tater tot in his mouth. "Hey, Lydia," he told her. "Derek hasn't asked me to translate anything in the bestiary yet, has he talked to you?" She wondered, straight to the point. Boyd and Isaac sat down at the lunch table opposite them, trays in hand. Stiles turned to Lydia, and asked, "No, why?" 

Scott, Erica, and Allison sat down next to them, filling up the rest of the chairs at the table. 

Lydia shrugged to downplay what she said next, "Just means he hasn't figured anything out yet. Maybe we should talk to Deaton." 

Scott looked up, "Are you guys talking about the scent in the preserve?" 

Lydia and Stiles nodded, and Lydia wondered, "Know anything about it, Scott?" 

Scott shrugged. "It smelled really weird, kinda bad, but kinda good, too, I guess." He looked down at his tray, confused. 

Allison touched his shoulder, and he smiled at her. "Stiles, think you could talk to Deaton today?" 

Stiles cringed. He didn't exactly want to broadcast to the group his new-found 'extra-special' abilities. Scott only knew because  _hello, best buds_. Stiles tried to play it off, saying, "Yeah, I guess. I mean, not much to go on. But I could try." 

And that was that. After lunch, the pack separated to go to their classes. Stiles was left thinking offhandedly about his dream and the properties of smoke and mist to make it behave like it did in his dream. That thought process got him through his last period, where he was left to fight off the other teen drivers in the parking lot in a mad rush to exit the lot first. 

* * *

 

"Alright, Stiles. We now know you possess some powerful abilities. I would like to know their extent. Have you experienced anything strange lately? Anything that could be a clue as to how your spark developed, how it evolved?" Deaton asked later that day. 

Stiles shook his head. "I didn't really know what a spark was until you told me about it, and I never consciously did anything about it until yesterday, or that time with the ash." 

"What about subconsciously?" Deaton wondered. 

Stiles thought back to his childhood. He thought about his weird dreams lately, and his early-childhood memory of a lady in robes talking to him about being safe and smart. Outside of that, Stiles can't think of any real evidence of his spark developing to what it is now. 

He shakes his head. "No dice." He hears himself telling Deaton. 

In his head, though, he's confronting all those events he brushed aside. The time when Scott was too hot when he had the flu, so 7-year-old Stiles just put his crazy-cold hands on his forehead, and his fever started to break. Or how he always won at hide-and-go-seek as a kid, even when the seeker was standing two feet away from him. Or how if he doesn't want his dad to find his stash of candy in the pantry, he just places it wherever, and  _knows_ that his dad won't find it, somehow. 

Lastly, he thinks about the lady in robes. He brushed her off as a figment of his imagination, but now that he knows about werewolves,  _who knows?_ She could have been real. He was learning about Ancient China in school when she first appeared, and he made himself believe that she was an ancestor warning him. She did tell him to be smart, so maybe she was? What kind of ancestry did he have where people wore those robes and had hair piled up like that? She was pretty, but in a terrifying sort of way. No way could Stiles be related to her. Plus, she didn't even look like a ghost. 

Stiles shook himself. He was just a weird kid, that's all. 

Deaton was watching him, obviously waiting for an answer. "Uh, what?" Stiles asked. He hated when he zoned out. 

"I was saying that today, we should see how much power is behind your belief. Follow me outside, please." Instead of walking out the door to get to the main room and thus the front door, Deaton went to another door Stiles usually ignored, which he now realized was a back door. They stepped down a set of stairs and came into a sort of gravel lot, bordered by trees. "Just a short ways, now." Deaton started walking briskly, forcing Stiles to stumble over his feet as he struggled to keep up, walking into the preserve. "Uh, Deaton? Derek and Scott said they smelled something weird in the woods the other day, maybe we should-" Deaton held up a hand. 

"Nonsense, Stiles. Nothing will bother us, and I'm a Druid training a temperamental spark. We could hold our own." He said with a smile. 

They walked into a clearing, with a three tree stumps in the center. "This isn't another one of those Nemeton things, is it?" Stiles asked. 

Deaton nodded his head to the side. "Nemetons are where the ley lines congregate. This place has magic, but nothing to do with ley lines." 

"Stiles, see what you can do about some privacy?" Deaton asked. 

"What do you mean?" Stiles wondered. Way to be vague, Doc. 

"Do with that what you will. Sound, sight, whatever." Was his answer. 

Stiles tilted his head to the side and tried to listen. His hearing would never be as good as a werewolf's, but he had  _something._ He couldn't hear much outside of the circle anyway, so he focused on sight obstruction. He felt a tingle on his back, like a breath, and he knew what to do. He believed he would generate a covering, just outside the circle, just a small barrier between them and the outside world. Stiles closed his eyes and breathed in and out, once. Then he sat up straight and  _pulled_ in with his mind, urging mist up out of the ground. He kept his eyes closed in concentration until he knew there was enough to reach into the trees. Once he sensed they were concealed, he opened his eyes, and saw what Deaton had conjured. One stump had a small pebble, one held a log, and upon the final tree stump sat a very large rock. 

"Interesting choice in cover, Stiles. Now, control is key, here. Lift the pebble into the air, say 5 feet." 

Stiles looked at the pebble, and took in its characteristics. It wasn't smooth, it just was. In fact, it probably came from the gravel lot out back of the vet's. It wasn't special, and this wouldn't be hard, Stiles promised himself. 

He nodded once to himself, and forced all his concentration on the small rock. He breathed in, felt the air, tasted it. He  _suggested_ to the rock, to the air around it, that it be moved, and believed it would. 

The rock rose in the air to eye-height. Deaton nodded to himself and smiled at Stiles. Stiles let the rock fall back. "Now, the log. I want you to lift it into the air, same height." 

Stiles focused on the log and it's dimensions. It was about the length of his forearm, and twice as thick. No biggie. He breathed in once, and pushed his will onto the log, asking if it would  _please_ rise. 

The log rose in the air, spun a few times slowly while Stiles looked at it, and slowly sank back down to the stump. 

Deaton nodded. "Now, don't strain yourself on this, Stiles. This rock weighs about 75 pounds. Please, make it rise to any height you're comfortable with." 

Stiles shrugged, and nodded. He studied the rock. If he curled into a ball, he would be bigger than the rock, still. Mind over matter, right? 

Stiles nodded and gathered himself, pushing his shoulders back. His hand thrust out at his side. The air around the rock shivered. Stiles breathed in, once. 

The rock moved upwards. It made it to knee-height, then fell heavily back onto the stump. 

Stiles was gasping. He had been holding his breath during the exercise, something he hadn't realized he'd been doing for all of them. Deaton touched his shoulder. "I'm okay, just winded." Stiles gulped down air, and forced himself to hold it until his chest calmed. 

The smoke started to dissipate. "That was very enlightening, thank you Stiles. Tomorrow, we will test other abilities. Don't tire yourself out, rest tonight." Stiles nodded, and they started back to the clinic. 

"Hey, Deaton?" He asked, before they parted ways. 

He looked up. "I told you, Derek and Scott noticed a weird scent in the woods. Have you noticed anything?" 

"Why do you think I asked you for privacy, Stiles?" With that cryptic message, Deaton shut the back door with a  _click_. 

After Stiles gathered himself in his Jeep, he made his way to the Hale house. He could hear hoots and hollers from the drive way, so he knew the pack was there. 

Lydia was the first to greet him. "What did Deaton say?" 

Stiles shrugged. "He's noticed something, alright, but won't tell me what." Stiles scowled. He was extremely tired that afternoon. He felt like he had run a marathon. He walked past Lydia into the kitchen for a glass of water. Derek appeared next to the island, quiet as usual. 

Stiles made a face. "Smells like updawg in here." 

Derek's head tilted. "What's updawg?" 

Stiles cackled and threw back his head. "Nothing much, what's up with you?" Scott came into the kitchen, followed closely by Isaac, who were both hooting over the joke. 

Lydia, who had followed Stiles into the kitchen, rolled her eyes. 

Derek looked an inch away from biting all their heads off, but Stiles could really see the lit at the end his mouth. He was  _totally_ fighting off a smile. 

"Were you in the woods today?" Stiles shrugged, "Yeah, Deaton wanted me to do some stuff with him out there." 

Derek scowled. Nothing much he could do about that. "I don't want you out there alone until we figure out what this scent is."

Too tired for an argument, Stiles gulped some water, and said, "Gotcha." And left it at that before shuffling to the living room. He threw himself down onto one of the plush leather couches, and fell asleep almost immediately.  

* * *

 

Thalia hurried through the woods. Her girls may have continued on, but she knew that there was something  _more_ going on in Beacon Hills. Reyna had asked her to check it out, see if there was any monster activity, something they could maybe prevent. The wolf pack wasn't like the wolves the Romans knew, which made them an anomaly. She would have to report that to Reyna  _and_ Artemis. There was a scent here, it was cloudy and fogged, but it couldn't be covered easily. Whatever was covering it was powerful. If she could smell it, she could track it. 

She set out that day with a mission. 

It brought her to the middle of the woods, where a cloud seemed to be blocking her path. She glanced around it, keeping hidden. She circled around it once, then twice. It was about thirty feet in diameter, maybe. But it wasn't there the week before. Thalia had scouted these woods herself. This was knew. A sound was heard from inside the cloud, a thud. Voiced. Thalia scrambled back into her covering, arrow poised. The fog dissipated. A boy and a man stood in the clearing with three curious tree stumps. They continued talking and began to walk back along a path Thalia noticed earlier. The boy, the scent was coming from the boy. It was barely there, but Thalia knew more about tracking now than she did a year ago. She could _see_ it. Maybe he was a demigod? No, he looked too old. He'd be at a camp. The old man said something to him about a scent, and the door to what she realized now was a vet clinic. The boy walked around and got into an old baby-blue jeep, and left the lot.

Thalia didn't know what to think. 

 

* * *

 

Each day was the same. Stiles would wake up from a misty dream, shake the fog out of his head, and go to school. He would participate little in class, and think about training and what all of this  _meant_. After school, he'd go to Deaton's. He had him lit increasingly bigger objects on fire, the next day he had him control the size of the flame, and then it was levitating objects  _and_ igniting them. Cool stuff, huh?

After Deaton's, Stiles would take a power nap at Derek's, wake up twenty minutes later with Derek's jacket on his bare feet, and watch TV with the pack, before heading home to make dinner for his dad and do homework. 

 

That pattern was interrupted, when Stiles heard a sound at his window. It wasn't so much of a sound as it was the feeling of a presence, of complete surprise. Suddenly, it was all-systems-go, fight-or-flight, and Stiles was frozen. 

The window was rolled open, and it wasn't a werewolf that climbed inside. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please please pleaaaassseeee give me your comments!! xx

**Author's Note:**

> comment/kudos your thoughts! Thanks!


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